


Scorched Earth

by deadwires



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Character Death Mentioned, Drabble, Gen, Heavy TFTB spoilers, Mild Blood and Injury, whump with a hopeful ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22236409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadwires/pseuds/deadwires
Summary: Rhys wakes up in the ruins of Helios, alone with his thoughts.
Kudos: 7





	Scorched Earth

Rhys comes to with the sound of fire crackling, a landscape of twisted metal all around him. Dizzy from blood loss, it takes a few moments for his memory to catch up with him.

_Take a good look around you, Rhys. This is what success looks like. You'll see - after a while, you start to measure it by the size of the pile of destruction._

Rhys' body jolts at the imaginary sound of Jack's voice. He can still hear it so clearly, echoing staticky in his skull. He shakes it away, the movement jostling the raw nerve exposed where there was once his ECHO eye. There's blood on his cheek, streaking down his side, naked ports exposed to oxidized air. He's full of holes, he feels - from the stump of his arm to the empty ache in his chest.

It takes three tries to push himself upwards on his remaining arm. He's breathless by the time he's standing, and even that only lasts until he can lean against a shattered support beam to dry heave. Nothing comes up, of course. He hadn't eaten since far before their ill-fated mission to Helios. Shoulders shake with barely restrained sobs before he at last lets all his grief loose, crying out into the scorched wasteland.

Rhys was alone, now. No Helios, no Vaughn, no _Jack_.

It's odd how immediately he misses him, despite his attempt on his life only.. minutes? Hours, before? _Shit_ , how long had it even been? Rhys surveys blearily, blind in one eye, and finds embers burnt low and a smoky twilight sky. Hours, then. He was lucky he hadn't bled out.

Rhys allows himself half an hour more to grieve, to gather up the maelstrom of emotions whipping up chaos inside him, and that's all.

Rhys had a future to build, now. And he'd be damned if he wasted it dying in obscurity here.

His legs shake as he presses on. One step, another, and a few dozen more and he finds himself at the remains of Jack's trophy case. Jack's beloved chair lies in pieces of it's former glory to the side. Rhys exhales. Reaches down, wrenches off a half-burnt chairleg. And finally, smashes through the case with a magnificent explosion of glass. He takes the rights to Atlas into his hand, remembering bitterly what Jack had told him of Atlas - how he'd reduced it to nothing. Everything had to start somewhere. Or _re_ -start, as it were.

"Guess we've got something in common, huh?" He murmurs, dusting off the surface.

Tucking his future into his back pocket, Rhys Strongfork turns and leaves Helios behind.


End file.
